


Untwisted Thomas(Narrative)

by KorruptBrekker



Series: Thomas At An Angle(Narrative) [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Swap, Gen, Light/Dark Side Swap, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KorruptBrekker/pseuds/KorruptBrekker
Summary: Virgil wakes up in a different world. His friends are gone and he surrounded by the Dark Sides that have haunted him for the entirety of his existence. He has to figure out a way to get home, but with the Darks being friendlier than usual, will he ever find a way to escape?This is a sequel, readTwisted Thomasbeforehand to understand the story.Updates Fridays.
Series: Thomas At An Angle(Narrative) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068179
Comments: 35
Kudos: 50





	1. Who's Room Is This?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Untwisted Thomas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24987610) by [MimiIvory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiIvory/pseuds/MimiIvory). 
  * Inspired by [The Frisbee Incident (And The Events That Occured Thereafter)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879972) by [Prodigal_Sunlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigal_Sunlight/pseuds/Prodigal_Sunlight). 



> _This work is a narrative version of Untwisted Thomas, a screenplay by[ MimiIvory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiIvory/pseuds/MimiIvory). I implore you to check it out, if for no other reason than to read ahead._   
>    
>    
>  _**Note:** For those of you who have read the original work, I will be taking some creative liberties with lines and/or titles that are clunky(in my opinion), but for the most part I will be staying true to the original version of Twisted Thomas._
> 
> **Warnings:** None

The blankets shift as Virgil slowly rouses. He rubs his eyes, groaning. He pulls the comforter over his head, trying to muffle the unsettling silence around him.  _ Wait. _ There’s supposed to be an alarm. A horrid, skull rattling beeping alarm. As far as he can remember, he’s  _ never _ been able to wake up naturally.

He fists the comforter, quickly determining that it isn’t his. It’s much too smooth.  His eyes shoot open as he yanks it from his head and stumbles to his feet. The first thing he registers is darkness. Virgil blinks, frantically rubbing his eyes. They soon adjust to the room and he looks around. The bed he was sleeping in is a queen, the rumpled comforter a violet plaid. The pillows match the comforter, but the sheets are black. 

Reluctantly, he turns to his window. In place of his shear, lavender curtains are periwinkle drapes, the darkness making it look like the embroidered spiders are skittering across the fabric. Virgil squeezes his eyes shut, reluctantly pulling open the curtains. He cracks one eye open.  He shrinks away as he pulls open the spider curtains, revealing a desolate wasteland. Various shades of black stretch out before him. The ground is cracked and grey, looming black clouds in place of the sun.  He yanks the curtains closed, hugging himself.

Virgil quickly shifts his attention elsewhere, his pulse only spiking as he realizes that the corners are  _ covered _ in spiderwebs. He can’t tell if they’re real or fake, but frankly he’s too afraid to check. His lavender painted toes curl out of habit, his heart sinking as he’s met with cold tile instead of his fuzzy, magenta rug.

He spots a small lamp near the bed. Turning it on, it emits a cold, purple glow. He supposes it’s a little better than being in almost complete darkness, but nowhere near enough to make the scary shadows go away. He falls onto the queen bed, wanting so desperately to curl under the small lavender and magenta gradient comforter of his own twin bed; to the laughter from Hope and Creativity’s conversation down the hall. He sniffles, pulling his hoodie closer to him. The sound seems to echo in the room. He pulls his hood over his head, curling into a fetal position.

_ Think Virgil. Think. Just get yourself out of here. Panicking will only tire you out, and you can’t protect Hope and Creativity from the others if you’re tired. _ He lets out a sharp breath, pushing himself up against the wall. 

He knows this isn’t Hope  _ or _ Creativity’s room. Hope’s room if full of warm sunlight and pretty, pastel yellows. Creativity’s is full of exciting lime greens, and art projects everywhere. It’s not Rectitude’s room,  _ that’s _ for sure. It doesn’t have the pristine shelves, or the blank walls. It’s not Control’s room, it’s not orderly and there isn’t a book in sight. It can’t be Pride’s room either. Pride doesn’t have a horrid, barren wasteland just outside his window.

Was Rectitude behind this? Virgil’s fingers tighten around his sleeves, his head beginning to spin.  _ Just figure out how to get out, Virgil. Think first, panic later. _ He fights through the dizzy feeling, looking around the room for anything to defend himself with. In his old room he has a knife set, but there doesn’t seem to be anything sharper than a pencil in here. It’ll have to do. He snatches it from a cluttered desk, sinking out. Or, trying to.

_ Darn it Control. Why do you have to make things so hard! _ At least that answers one of his questions. If he can’t sink out, then he’s probably stuck as Control’s lab rat again. 

Just then, a knock sounds through the door, Rectitude’s haunting cheery voice echoing through the horrible, dark room. “Virgil?”

His eyes widen.  _ Oh fudge, maybe Rectitude did this after all. _ He shrinks into himself as the knock comes again.

“Hey, Virgil. I know we didn’t sort everything out last night, but I was wondering if you wanted some pancakes?” Virgil stays silent. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

Time seems to slow as the knob turns, the door creaking open. Rectitude’s face appears, wearing his signature, faux smile. Virgil’s feet are planted firmly to the floor, his body frozen. There are only two thoughts going through his head. One,  _ I’m gonna have nightmares about this for the rest of my life. _ And two,  _ Oh no. He’s here. Again. And this time he knows my name. _


	2. Flip.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil stands up against Rectitude, and thinks he sees a change in the side. When another joins the party, it proves how wrong he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Vague Blood Mention, Mentions of Kidnapping
> 
> _In depth warnings in end notes_

Virgil stumbles back as Rectitude walks in. “How the _heck_ do you know my name?!”

He resists the urge to curl up in a little ball, hiding under his covers until Rectitude goes away. Where did he take him? And why? After what happened last time, that darned side should know that they could never be friends. Nothing he did would _ever_ earn Virgil’s friendship. 

Not after what happened the last time.

The other had the _gall_ to look confused. “You told me? Virge, are sure you’re alright?”

Virgil’s lavender nails dig into his palms. “ _Don’t._ Call me that.”

Rectide stutters, taking a small step back. Good.

“Okay.. Anxiety? Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Virgil pauses. _Anxiety? Who?_

“Why’re you calling me Anxiety?” He demands, though confusion slips in against his will. “I’m _obviously_ not playing along. Especially with your little ‘father figure’ act. Goodness knows I’ve had enough of _that_ for a _lifetime._ ”

Hurt flashes across Rectitude’s face, and Virgil internally smiles at that. But the smugness fades into confusion, as the other side shrinks into himself slightly. He really seems hurt. That doesn’t make any sense to Virgil.

Rectitude nods, pushing up his circular glasses and adjusting the cardigan around his shoulders. That’s odd, Rectitude doesn’t wear a cardigan. He tries at a comforting smile. Virgil sees right through it. After a beat, Rectitude speaks up, voice delicate like flimsy flower petals. “What do you want me to call you?”

Virgil pauses. That’s uncalled for. Rectitude seems to actually care? He shakes his head. _No._ It’s a trap. Don’t fall for it Virgil. “Vigilance.” He pushes through his teeth. “Now, why am I here? And where are Hope and Creativity? They _must_ have noticed me missing. They’ll come looking. You didn’t think you’d get away with this _again_ did you?”

“Get away with what?”

Virgil’s knuckles turn white around the pencil. “ _Kidnapping._ ”

The other side’s eyes widen as his hands fly to his chest. A sharp gasp cuts through the air and Virgil almost winces. Then Rectitude’s features smooth out into that too perfect expression that Rectitude is almost never seen without. “How about I get Creativity? I don’t know who Hope is though.”

 _What?_ Rectitude _willing_ to bring in Creativity? Virgil resists the urge to rub his face and pull at his hair. Things don’t seem to be adding up. He hesitantly steps forward, hoping it isn’t just a horrid trick.

Rectitude makes a quick upwards motion with his hand, a _whoosh_ accompanying another figure appearing in the doorway.

Virgil bites back a shriek, stumbling back into the spider curtains. Limbs fly in all directions as he tries to untangle himself, eventually falling flat on his butt. “Pride?” His shrill voice ricochets around the room. “Why would you bring _Pride?!_ You said you’d bring _Creativity!_ You did this on purpose! I hate you both, just _stop_ playing with me!”

He fights to shove his tears away, the shocked faces of Rectitude and Pride boring holes into him. They’re both playing dumb and Virgil is just _sick_ of it. They even changed outfits, as if that would do _anything._

A crack echoes through the room, a sharp pain flooding his palm. He glances down to see the pencil in splinters, a trickle of red along the wooden surface. _Crap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  _Vague Blood Mention:_ A pencil snaps in Virgil's hand which causes him to bleed slightly  
>  _Mentions of Kidnapping:_ Virgil assumes that Rectitude kidnapped him again due to it happening before


	3. The Others.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil encounters all the Dark Sides, and is less than happy about the whole situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Vague Blood Mention, Kidnapping Mention
> 
> _In depth warnings in end notes_

“What on Earth is going on?” Pride looks between Vigilance and Rectitude, his eyes wide. His royal red nails came up to fiddle with his epaulets. Seeing Pride in white and gold without his crown of thorns is somehow more unnerving than seeing him all decked out in red, black, and gold. But the sash is the same; red as blood. He’s missing the embroidery and the dramatic makeup and he almost looks like an alternate Creativity. It’s bone chilling.

Rectitude on the other hand, looks almost the same. False warm features, rounded glasses, and freckles. The thing is, Rectitude has gotten better at faking his love and affection. His eyes are no longer cold, they’re a warm brown. Virgil represses a shudder, turning his attention to his outfit. Instead of a button down he wears a polo, his bowtie is nowhere to be seen. Instead a cat cardigan drapes around his shoulders, complimenting his khaki slacks. 

Rectitude shrugs, voice laced with concern. “I just came into his room and he was like this.”

“Speaking of which,” Virgil begins, trying to hide the pain in his voice as he allows the broken pencil to fall to the floor, his blood disappearing into the black carpet. “why is there a freaking  _ wasteland _ outside of my window.”

“No cursing, kiddo.” Rectitude reprimands.

Virgil growls, suppressing a wince as his nails dig into his palms. “Listen up Rectitude because I’m only gonna say this  _ once. _ ” He steps forward, his splintered hand pointing at Rectitude’s chest. “I’m not your  _ ally, _ I’m not your  _ friend, _ and I am  _ certainly _ not your  _ kiddo. _ ” He spits the last word as if it’s poison. “If you wanted me to be more careful of my langue you should have been a half decent parent the  _ first _ time you kidnapped me. So,  _ pardon my french Rectitude, _ but  _ screw. Off. _ ”

The two stare, gaping at him. Virgil internally smirks. It’s about time Rectitude got told off for the crap he’s pulled. He folds his arms, raising an eyebrow at the two dark sides, his lavender eyes sharp and dangerous.

“Patton kidnapped you..?” Pride finally manages, looking horrified.

Virgil rolls his eyes. The playing dumb thing is starting to get real old. He ignores the question entirely. “How the heck do you know each other’s names? And  _ mine _ for that matter. You’ve been..  _ friends _ for years and you’ve never used each other’s names. Why start now?”

“What do you mean? We all know each other’s names. You’ve known since I introduced myself. And you had a whole two parter.” Rectitude explains. Pride nods.

“Excuse me.” Vigilance deadpans.

“ _ Accepting Anxiety _ ?” Pride prompts. “Oh, God. Did the Dark Sides do something?”

Virgil scoffs. “I think you’d know if Control did something. You’d have a research paper within the hour.”

Pride chuckles and Rectitude shoots him a look. “Logan? Could he have done this?” He asks, fiddling with the sleeves of his cardigan.

Virgil resists the urge to fiddle with his own sleeves. The fact that they’re suddenly just so chill with using each other’s names is bewildering. And they were using his as if to  _ include _ him. But why? Since when do they care about him and the Lights?

Pride shakes his head. “No. Definitely Janus and Remus.”

Virgil perks up at that. “You mean the Light Sides? Minus me I guess.”

Pride looks at him like he’s grown another head. “The  _ Light Sides _ ?”

Virgil returns the look. “Yeah. Hope, Creativity, Vigilance. The ones that are trying to make sure you a-holes don’t push Thomas off the edge. Not like it works, but we  _ try. _ ”

“What are you talking about ki- Vigilance?” Rectitude pipes up.

He shoots the other a look. “ _ Hope. Creativity. Vigilance. _ Not exactly like we get much sway in regards to influence. Or, have much influence in general thanks to Control. You  _ know _ this already.”

Pride waves his hands, brushing off the topic. “We’re getting distracted.  _ Obviously, _ the Dark Sides did something to him.”

“Are you sure kiddo?” Rectitude looks doubtful. “It doesn’t seem like they’d do this. Thomas accepted them. Maybe we should bring Logan in here. He’ll know what to do.” He nods to himself, as if trying to convince himself his words ring true.

“Oh. Yeah, probably should have done that earlier.” He mirrors the action Rectitude made to summon Pride, but with significantly more flair. Virgil represses a snort.

A swish sounds and Control appears looking annoyed. He sighs. “What do you need?”

“Why’d you assume there’s a problem.” Pride snarks.

“You don’t summon me unless there’s an issue. And there seems to be one as you’re congregating in Virgil’s room and he’s in different attire. Not to mention his heterochromia is gone and his iris colour is different.”

Control looks different, too. He’s no longer wearing his navy suit, replaced with a black polo and navy slacks. He still has a tie, though this one is striped with different shades and tones of blue. The most jarring change to his attire is his lack of gloves. Just seeing his bare hands causes a shudder to run down Virgil’s spine. It’s just  _ wrong. _

“Fair enough.” Virgil supplies, keeping all of his panicking inside.

Control gives him an odd look. “It’s not like you to agree with me so suddenly.”

“You’ve made it quite clear over the years that, one, we’re not really in a position to disagree with you and two, socializing isn’t  _ your _ first priority either.”

Hurt flashes across his face, gone in milliseconds. “Virgil, you’re acting quite strangely. What seems to be the issue?”

Rectitude, as per usual answers for him. “I just came to wake him up and he said his name was Vigilance, not Anxiety. And then he got really mad at me and..”

Pride puts a hand on his shoulder, finishing for him. “And he talked about Patton kidnapping him.”

Virgil’s disgusted at how easily the words fall from Pride’s lips. Clearly, Control is uncomfortable with it too as his brows raise in shock. “ _ What? _ ”

The side shoves his hands into his lavender patchwork hoodie. “Can I leave please?”

“You want to go back to the  _ Dark Sides? _ ” Pride demands, appearing astonished. “When they are the people who most likely  _ messed with your head. _ ”

Virgil grits his teeth.  _ You don’t deserve to talk about my friends like that. _

“He obviously doesn’t perceive them as enemies.” Control states. “Whatever has occurred, he doesn’t see any of us as friends either.”

Virgil shrugs. “Well, you’re alright Control. You didn’t kidnap me, so you’re not a total douchebag. You keep us from dying at least.”

Rectitude looks to the others, his mouth pulled down in deliberation. “Maybe we should just let him go? I mean, we can trust Janus.”

“I, for one, believe we should discuss this with Thomas. We can’t trust Janus one hundred percent, and Remus is entirely unpredictable. He seems to be less destructive than before, but he still isn’t as prectitiable as is required for this current situation.”

“Maybe we should just.. talk to Thomas?” Rectitude asks as if it was his idea. 

“Good idea! Then we can figure out and resolve this viscous treachery!” Pride readily agrees. Rectitude gives him a look. “Or, whatever’s going on.” He sheepishly amends.

Virgil doesn’t miss the flash of something across Control’s face. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to go back to Remus and Janus as soon as possible, but it does allow room for a small pang of sympathy. _Wait._ Sympathy for a _Dark Side?_ _Snap_ out _of it Virgil!_

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “Sure.”

Rectitude raises a brow. “Sure?”

“It’s your fault He’s an a-hole. Not mine.” He ignores Rectitude and Pride’s concerned and shocked expressions. “And since everyone’s being so kind today, Control would you undo the teleportation lock? I can’t walk to see Thomas.”

Pride cocks his head. “You like  _ Logan _ but not  _ us? _ ”

“He saved Creativity. He’s Control. He works in Thomas’s self interest; at least in the long run. So yeah, I trust him not to kill me.”

He stifles a snicker at how familiar Rectitude and Pride’s stunned faces are becoming.

“I’ve never locked anyone’s teleportation.” Control denies.

_ Whatever. _ He sighs. “Then let’s go, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:**  
>  _Vague Blood Mention:_ Virgil bleeds due to the snapped pencil  
>  _Kidnapping Mention:_ Virgil assumes that Rectitude kidnapped him again due to it happening before and openly accuses him


	4. Hope.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil meets Hope and things quickly escalate with the Others around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
>  **This chapter is heavy, please read the warnings.**   
>  _
> 
> **Warnings:** Moderate Depictions of Kidnapping, Moderate Depictions of Gaslighting, Moderate Depictions of Physical Abuse, Mentions of Emotional Abuse
> 
> _In Depth Warnings In End Notes_

The four make their way to the Commons, Pride and Rectitude in the front as usual, Control hanging just behind, and Virgil bringing up the rear. He wants to stay as far away from them as possible. Something is definitely up, and he doesn’t want to be anywhere near them when they drop their cheery façades.

The biggest shock is the simplicity of the path to the Commons. It’s no longer the labyrinth of endless grey it used to be. The walls are still smooth and colourless, but the labyrinth seems to have completely disappeared. 

_ Looks like Control finally got rid of the darned thing. Sure took him long enough. _

A sigh brushes past Virgil’s lips as Pride and Rectitude’s muttering bounces off the walls. It reverberates, nothing but whispers along the corridor. 

Virgil doesn’t need to hear their words to know what they’re talking about.

Before he can delve even further into his less than happy thoughts, the hallway opens up into the Commons. There’s a table in the center, a darker shade of grey, five chairs surrounding it. Off to the right is a couch and recliner, and mounted to the wall is a flat screen TV. To the left is a doorway leading to the kitchen. Virgil can’t see much from his vantage point, but he can make out a fridge, a counter, and some cabinets along the walls.

Everything is grey. But it’s a happy shade of grey. A welcoming tone that wraps the viewer in a snug embrace, telling them that it’s okay. That they’re safe here. It’s so different to his own common space. His doesn’t have the fancy embellishments like the TV, or the bookcase in the right hand corner, or the DVD shelf near that, or the pillow fort in the opposite corner, but it has that same homey vibe. Virgil feels himself relax just a little.

His relaxation disappears immediately when he spots a figure in the recliner, green scales and bright eyes a much needed slice of home. He bounds towards one of his best friends, just barely stopping himself from wrapping him in the biggest hug he can muster right then and there. Instead Virgil settles for bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands flapping excitedly as he beams. “Hope! Oh my  _ gosh! _ It’s really you!” He falters, taking in the blacks and greys that have replaced the usual sunny yellows and whites of his outfit. “Sorta. You look like a Disney villain now, but you’re  _ actually okay! _ And guess what! Control says we can teleport again!”

“Yes.” Is all he says, smooth, deep voice almost nothing like the hesitant lilt of how Hope usually sounds. “Yes I can.”

“I hoped you would remember…” Virgil’s face falls at Hope’s confusion. His bouncing and stimming slows to a stop, good mood is washing away. “I guess it makes sense since apparently the Others don’t remember anything either… But I really,  _ really _ hoped you’d remember…”

“Remember what?”

Control, as usual, buts in. “Before we continue, I suggested we discuss this with Thomas. Janus, are you alright with having this conversation in front of him?”

Control knows Hope’s true name too. Virgil’s face regains its grimace as he whirls around to face him, ready to… he isn’t quite sure, but he’ll come up with something. Though just as he’s about to act, he feels Hope take his hand, giving him a warm smile.  _ It’s alright. _ His eyes seem to say, and Virgil lets Hope guide him onto the arm of the recliner. Hope’s air is so different compared to his usual wide eyes and quivering lip whenever he’s around the Others, and Virgil supposes that if Hope is okay then he himself will give them the space to explain.

“Go ahead, Logan.” Janus turns to Control.

Control nods and disappears. Pride and Rectitude quickly follow, as does Hope. Virgil takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands. If Hope could teleport, then he could, too. 

All he has to do is try. 

He exhales sharply, squeezing his eyes tight. He feels a tingling sensation overtake him, every portion of him engulfed in pins and needles. There’s a distant  _ whoosh _ around him and suddenly his heart drops to his shoes. His head feels too light, his limbs too heavy, his eyes pounding in his skull.

He stumbles as he appears in the real world, hands flying to his head as he groans. He begrudgingly opens his eyes to Thomas’s expectant gaze and the concerned faces the others. He waves them off, collapsing on the stairs and throwing his hood up over his head. He’s forgotten how jarring teleportation is. He’d eventually built up a tolerance to it before Control had put him and his friends on leashes, but after years walking everywhere, teleportation, although faster, is a less than pleasant experience.

“Thomas,” Control begins. “I’m going to ask you to just listen whilst we lay out all of the pieces of this metaphorical puzzle on the proverbial table. Once we’ve provided exposition, you may ask questions. Is that alright with you?”

Thomas merely nods, settling into his couch.

“Well then,” Control clears his throat, adjusting his tie. “To answer your question Janus, Virgil is referring to a word in which Roman, Patton, and I are Pride, Rectitude, and Control respectively. And you, Virgil, and Remus are Hope, Vigilance, and Creativity. A world wherein the Light Sides and Dark Sides have been switched. Has  _ Vigilance _ ever held these beliefs?”

Something indecipherable flashes across Hopes face, gone so quickly Virgil isn’t entirely sure it was there in the first place. He shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not. I don’t recall him being this…  _ friendly  _ either. He was… overly heightened Anxiety when he was with me. That isn’t exactly a friendly trait.”

Vigilance bites his lip, brows furrowing. He doesn’t remember any of that. And since when has Hope started calling him Anxiety? Have the Others actually done something to him…? Is that why he trusts them? Because they’ve brainwashed him?

Before Virgil can spiral any more than he already is, Pride’s boisterous voice cuts through his thoughts. “How can we trust you.”

“Gosh it’s weird seeing Pride play hero.” Virgil mutters.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Hope responds, lips turning up in a smirk.

“Be nice you two.” Rectitude scolds, waving a finger in their direction. Hope rolls his eyes.

Virgil scoffs. He pulls his hoodie tighter around him, glaring daggers at Rectitude. “Look  _ Rectitude,  _ I get that you’re probably not who I think you are, at least not right now you aren’t, but you have  _ got _ to stop playing Dad. You are  _ not _ my family, and you are  _ most definitely  _ not my Dad. You  _ kidnapped me,  _ stuck me in  _ isolation, _ and left me there  _ to die. _ I was convinced I’d fade into the subconscious, convinced that no one would come for me, convinced that I  _ deserved it all, _ just because you told me I did.

“And then, because being alone wasn’t enough apparently, you let  _ Pride _ visit me. And we  _ both _ know he isn’t exactly friendly. You had already broken me emotionally, but you went ahead and let Pride beat me down and chain me up. You  _ ruined _ me. I was forced to rely on you and  _ only _ you for  _ everything. _ I knew nothing of independence, only that I followed the rules or was  _ beaten to a pulp. _ I was trapped there for  _ weeks _ before Hope and Creativity bust me out. 

“I don’t care who the heck you are right now. I just wanna sort all this crap out and  _ go home  _ to whatever semblance of a mindscape I have left.  _ Okay? _ ”

Virgil’s chest is heaving, his palms aching where he’d dug his fingernails into them. His jaw pops as he unclenches his teeth, collapsing yet again on the stairs, legs feeling like jelly. When had he stood up?

Beside him, Hope isn’t doing much better. His face is white as a sheet, eyes wide, forehead and scales shining with sweat. His hands are wrapped up in each other, grip so tense Virgil can see his knuckles through the gloves. His whole body is coiled tight as possible, shoulders up to his ears and knees locked.

“Okay…” Rectitude’s voice is so small Virgil can barely hear him. Something about the way his shoulders slump and his eyes stay trained on the carpet sends something churning in Virgil’s stomach. He shoves it aside, gritting his teeth against the unwanted emotions.

“What about Control..” Thomas inquires, delicately making his way up from the couch to the middle of his living room. 

“He was in his room, like always. Doing some sciency crap or something.” Virgil mutters, surprised that Thomas is actually talking to  _ him. _

Control’s mouth twists, but he keeps silent.

After a beat of silence, Rectitude offers, “Control doesn’t seem very nice.”

“He’s not.” Virgil hesitates. “But he fixed up Creativity, so I can’t exactly hate him.”

“Excuse me?” Hope asks.

“He fixed Creativity.” Virgil repeats, turning to his friend. When Hope’s face still doesn’t light up with recognition, his shoulders slump. “If we’re gonna have this conversation, can we at least bring in Creativity? I don’t wanna have to talk about this more than I have to.”

“Reasonable enough.” Control looks to the Others, eyebrows raised. They all nod their heads.

Thomas runs a hand through his hair, giving Control a faltering nod of his own. “Alright.” He mutters, then looks to the corner Pride is standing in. “Come on up Remus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Moderate Depictions of Kidnapping:_ Virgil goes into a little more detail about Rectitude's kidnapping  
>  _Moderate Depictions of Gaslighting:_ Virgil mentions how Rectitude convinces Virgil he deserves being isolated  
>  _Moderate Depictions of Physical Abuse:_ Virgil mentions Pride beats him if he steps out of line  
>  _Mentions of Emotional Abuse:_ Virgil mentions he's forced to rely on Rectitude for everything


	5. Creativity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil explains a bit more about his history. Needless to say, it's not pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Abuse - Neglect, Physical Violence, Threats of Character Death(nobody dies)
> 
> _In Depth Warnings In End Notes._

No _whoosh_ accompanies Remus’s arrival. He’s just not there one minute and there the next. Virgil hisses, scrambling back at the sudden arrival. His fear shifts into confusion as he takes in Remus’s outfit. It’s black instead of white, and the lime green he used to wear has been replaced with a bright acid green. The colour makes him want to gauge his eyes out. Instead, he says, “Why are you two dressing like Disney villains all of a sudden?”

“Because we make Thomas feel uncomfy, emo! It’s the same reason you wear your black.. hey where _is_ your black hoodie? That lavender is kinda boring.”

“Jeez, thanks for that. And I’m not an emo?”

“What.” Remus cocks his head to the side just far enough to make it unnatural, his confused eyes so wide you can see his sclera circling his iris. Virgil represses a shudder.

Control just adjusts his glasses, unphased. “He’s not Anxiety, he’s Vigilance. Roman? You have a question?”

Pride lets his hand drop. “I don’t trust _him_ either.”

“Oh dear brother, whatever happened to brotherly love? You can trust me, I’m not like Dee Dee over here. Lying isn’t as fun as freaking people out with the cold, hard truth.”

“While he isn’t honest all of the time, he does have a habit of,” Control pulls a flashcard from seemingly out of nowhere, “spilling the beans. Therefore, he is trustworthy enough for us to include him in the conversation.”

 _Brother? When the_ heck _did that happen? And what’s with Control in the flashcards? That’s definitely new._ Virgil would have snickered if he wasn’t so exhausted. He resists the urge to clutch his reeling head, so completely and utterly confused with the conversation playing out before him. He just wants to go home, darn it. Is that too much to ask? 

_Apparently so._ He thinks bitterly, sulking on the stairs.

“Well? Spit it out, Roman.” Remus sticks his tongue out at his brother, stringy saliva dripping from it like a melting popsicle.

Pride shudders, reluctantly turning to his brother. Satisfaction pools in Virgil’s stomach at the clearly disgusted Pride standing next to him.

“Did Anxiety ever go by Vigilance? Or look like,” Pride gestures to him, “that?”

“Nope.” Remus says, popping the ‘p.’ “He was never all that cheerful, either. Now it looks like he swallowed the sun or something. Hey, I wonder what that would taste like. Would you actually taste the chemicals or would you taste the burning of your internal organs or-”

Control holds a hand up, though something in his eyes shows he isn’t all that excited to stop Remus’s train of thought. “Slow down, Remus. Vigilance is going to explain some things.”

Virgil sighs, shuddering at the image Remus had conjured. He just wants his old Creativity back. Not this one. “Well _that_ was polite, Control. Where’d you learn manners.” He sneers, face falling slightly at Control’s faint hurt expression. Seeing these weird, nice Dark Sides was starting to feel less fulfilling by the minute. But feeling empathy never got him anywhere, and so, as usual, he shoved everything down, turning back to Creativity. “That’s Control, Pride, and Rectitude. He’s Hope and you’re Creativity. I’m Vigilance. Those are the Dark Sides, the Others, and we’re the Light Sides. We know each other’s names. Apparently the Darks know everyone’s names now too, but that’s an issue for another day, I guess.

“Control doesn’t really have feelings, but he saved your life so we tolerate him. Pride’s just an asshole, and Rectitude kidnapped me and stuck me in isolation until you two saved me.” Virgil lets a small smile cross his lips. “We’re family.”

“But you don’t use my name.” Creativity points out.

Virgil glances at the Dark Sides. They don’t really look all that Dark from where he’s standing. Maybe it’s alright to talk about this. And if it backfires, he’ll find a way to deal with it. 

Somehow. 

“Names matter.” He reluctantly explains. “We use names in life or death situations _only._ Maybe it’s used to comfort another side, _maybe._ But only you and Hope do that. Names are the signal that something is wrong and we’re coming to protect you. Names show the seriousness of a situation. Names are the little string of hope we hold onto to try and convince ourselves that none of us will die in that moment. Names have power. _Names matter._ ”

The room is silent. Sorrows hangs heavy in the air, bearing down on everyone’s shoulders. Virgil and Remus shake it off easier than the others.

“You said I almost died?” Remus asks, a demented excitement lighting up his eyes. “How?”

* * *

_Virgil storms into the Dark Side’s commons, the double doors flying open as he makes his way towards Rectitude and Pride, Hope trailing behind him._

_“Do you guys know what you’re doing! You’re killing Creativity! You need to let Thomas be creative!”_

_Pride snorts. “Does it look like we care? Creativity’s just a little shit, I’ll be glad when he’s gone.”_

_“Come back when you have actual,_ important _information to tell us, okay kiddos?” Rectitude says, eyes flashing. “We wouldn’t want to have to retrain you, now would we Vigilance?”_

_Hope bites his lip, curling in on himself as Pride’s grin spreads across his face._

_Virgil stops, letting his shoulders slump and desperation leak into his voice. “Please, Rectitude. I’ll be good. Just… don’t let him die.”_

_Rectitude makes a scene of thinking, smirking as he turns back to Virgil and Hope. “How ‘bout ‘no.’ As Pride said, the boy’s a nuisance. He’ll be worth getting rid of.”_

_Virgil turns to Pride, heart dropping as he’s met with nothing but cold eyes and a cocky grin. The light side stomps his foot, screeching in frustration, then grabs Hope’s hand, running out of the room and holding back tears as he makes his way down the ever winding halls of the labyrinth back towards the Light Realm._

_He trips on his shoelace, tumbling to the ground. He hits the floor and the floodgates burst. His tears fall down his face in hot tracks, sobs wracking his body as he lays on the grey floor of the hallway. Virgil curls up, burying his head in his hoodie. He feels Hope’s hand on his shoulder as he sobs. It doesn’t make him feel better_

_Hope’s voice is small when he asks, “What about Control?”_

_“H-huh?” Virgil hiccups turning to look up at his friend, his family._

_“What if we ask Control? He’ll listen, right? We need Creativity for_ Him _to work, so maybe Control’ll save him.”_

_Virgil sits up, wiping his face on his hoodie. “You know, that’s actually a good idea.”_

_Hope preens, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth._

_Virgil takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and stands. He grabs Hope’s hand again, less firm than before but just as desperate. He quickly leads them both down a different pathway, looking for Control’s room._

_It takes them four separate tries to finally find the secluded Side’s room. Virgil’s legs are aching, but at least his tears are dried. Now all that’s left is an ache in his chest and an ever growing pit of dread in his stomach._

_Once they arrive, Virgil nearly knocks the door down in a flurry of desperation and rage. His voice is raw from crying, tear tracks like war paint as he stares down Control. “You better_ freaking _listen Control, because you are our_ last _lifeline and I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him.”_

_Control just sighs, adjusting his vest and gloves. “What is it you wanted, Vigilance?”_

_“Creativity is dying.”_

_The Dark Side perks up in an instant. “Excuse me?”_

_“He’s_ dying. _Please, can you help us?” Virgil pleads, trying, and failing, to keep his composure._

_“I’ll need to take a look at his status, but I should be able to make some sort of cure.”_

_Virgil nearly starts crying again. “Thank you, thank you_ so much. _”_

_“Don’t thank me just yet. There needs to be a distraction, the others will know I’ve gone if there isn’t.”_

_Hope’s voice is shaky as he straightens out his shoulders. “I’ll do it.”_

_Before Virgil has a chance to argue, Control nods and with a wave of his hand teleports Hope to the others. He then takes Virgil’s shoulder, sinking down and up into Creativity’s room._

_Creativity lays on his bed, curled into a fetal position. The tips of his fingers, toes, ears, and nose are all black and cracking. His skin is pulled taught along his bones, shriveled and grey. His eyes are now a dull green, nothing like the bright lime colour they were just days before._

_Something in Virgil cracks._

_Control steps forward, adjusting his glasses as he inspects Creativity. “Hm. Yes, I can make something to improve his condition. Know that it won’t be perfect, seeing as I’m working under a time constraint,” he glares at Virgil, as if to say that it was_ his _fault that he didn’t say anything earlier. He’d_ tried, _but the Others either didn’t care or didn’t_ listen. _“but it will work in a pinch.”_

_Virgil just nods, jaw smarting with how hard he’s clenching his teeth._

_Control flicks his wrist, summoning a syringe filled with a shifting, shimmering, translucent liquid. He injects it into Creativity, eliciting a small moan from the other Side. Virgil rushes to his side once Control pulls out the syringe, holding back another flood of tears._

_“Thank you.” He says again, voice shaky._

_“Don’t bother me again.” Is all Control says as he adjusts his suit jacket and disappears in the blink of an eye._

_Virgil crawls into bed next to Creativity, holding the Side in his arms as tight as comfortably possible. The other shifts, turning towards him and burying his face in Virgil’s chest. Vigil can already see the cracks sewing themselves back together, breathing easier at the proof that Creativity,_ Remus, _will survive._

_Hope stumbles in, shaking violently, red blooming on his cheek, a small line of blood trailing down his scales. Virgil’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight, Janus collapsing onto the bed next to him._

_“Who the_ heck _did that to you.” He demands, one hand unwrapping from around Remus to cup Janus’s uninjured cheek._

_The side just shakes his head, refusing to say a word. Instead, he cuddles up next to Remus, closing his eyes and letting the tension melt from his shoulders. Virgil follows suit, an arm wrapping around Remus and Janus, mind quiet knowing none of his family will be dying tonight._

_Hope never told them who hit him. After a few interactions, Virgil put the pieces together. The way Pride looked at Hope like a trophy, the way whenever Pride gestured with his hands Hope flinched. Nothing was ever good between the Light and the Dark Sides, but that was the tipping point. That one action sent him off the edge._ No one _hurt his family like that, and Virgil was going to fight back as much as he could to make sure it never happened again._

* * *

Virgil looks towards Pride, lips twitching downwards. 

The side’s putting on a pretty convincing act, shoulders hunched and gaze, clouded with pain, fixed on his boots.

If Virgil didn’t know better he’d say Pride was actually ashamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Abuse - Neglect:_ In the flashback, Pride and Rectitude are subsequently killing Creativity, and don't care enough to stop their actions and keep him alive  
>  _Physical Violence:_ Pride hits Hope at the end of the flashback  
>  _Threats of Character Death:_ Due to neglect, Creativity is on the brink of death


	6. Reactions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil reveals a bit more about his past, though it's not all bad this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Denial, Theft, Remus Being Remus, Mentions of Homophobia

“I like you.” Creativity declares, his twisted smile so achingly similar to Virgil’s Creativity’s playful smirk. “Could use more ass though. If you made it so you and Control got jiggy with it, it would make it, like 10 times better.”

Virgil freezes, jaw on the floor. The fact that anything like _that_ came out of _Creativity’s_ mouth was completely and utterly _dumbfounding._

In place of Virgil’s lack of a response, Hope says, “I can see why you don’t like them, Vigilance.”

Shaken from his momentary stupor, he shoots Hope a sad glance and returns to Creativity. Virgil's hands shake, teeth gnawing at his lip, nerves and hope seeping into him against his will. “Do.. do you remember..?”

“Nope!” Creativity grins, shrugging.

Virgil deflates, all of the hope dissipating at the single word.

“I can now understand as to why you don’t want to spend any time with us.” Control says solemnly. There’s a weight to his gaze, a sadness hanging just behind his eyes. Virgil can’t deny that it’s weird to see Control so emotive.

He shakes off the curiosity forming in his chest, returning to the most important thing. “Okay, so I wanna leave. Can I go home now?”

“No.” Creativity objects, “More stories.”

A small smile twists itself onto Virgil’s face as he exhales fondly. The ache in his chest increases. They’re so similar. The way Creativity’s bouncing on the literal tips of his toes, eager smile stretched across his face, eyes shining with stars at the prospect of more tales to be told.

_So similar, and yet so different._

“Okay, fine.” He huffs, resisting a chuckle at the childlike excitement. “You wanna hear about the pranks?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Virgil does chuckle then, eyes lighting up just a tad. “Alright. We always start with a plan; that was your job. You always plan our pranks. Hope makes sure we stay, well, _hopeful_ during the whole thing, and I always keep watch. We’re like a well oiled machine. We work perfectly together.

“We always use the tunnels as our entrance points. Some of them were there at the beginning, but most of them we’ve dug ourselves. Sometimes we spend entire days just digging tunnels. 

“Control is the one we prank the most. He’s the easiest to get riled up.” A collection of snickers sound at that, both from the Light and Dark Sides. Virgil allows himself to relax. “When we started out, it was usually just putting his stuff where it doesn’t belong. Y’know, casual stuff. He always got super upset when we did that, and it was super easy to do.

“But when I was going through some of his stuff to find a good thing to hide, I came across a journal. Of course I looked in it, and found a _massive_ log detailing all of his issues with Rectitude. The day, what happened, the _exact time_ it happened, all that jazz.” Virgil snorts. “It’s some of the funniest stuff I’ve seen ever. He even had notes to type up an essay on all of Rectitudes faults, it was _amazing._

“Turns out, a couple days later, he actually _did_ write the essay, and of _course_ we stole it. It’s hanging up in a frame in our Commons. That’s _by far_ the best thing we've lifted. After that, we’ve just started making copies of his stuff.” His tone turns solemn. “It was the only hint we go that he ever felt stuff. Like actual feelings.”

Something twitches in the corner of his vision, reminding him that the Dark Sides were here and _heard all of that._ But… they seem nicer than his old Dark Sides, so maybe it’s okay? Control looks real uncomfortable, but he doesn’t look _mad._

“Are you good?” Virgil hesitantly asks.

Control just clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “I’d just like to remind everyone that Control and I are separate entities. Control may have the capability to feel emotion, but I, _as Logic,_ do not.”

Virgil snorts. “Yeah right. You _flinched._ You obviously feel stuff. But.. are you okay? Do you want me to stop talking about this stuff?” These new Sides were starting to grow on him a little bit, and he didn’t really wanna hurt their feelings.

“I am perfectly fine. I just request you don’t discuss myself having emotions, seeing as that is a falsehood and spreading false information is not ideal.”

Virgil eyes him, concerned. He _clearly_ feels things, why is he ignoring that? Apparently the others don’t seem to be worried about him, and that sends something twisting in his gut. 

Against his better judgement, and not wanting to push an already uncomfortable Side, Virgil acquiesces. “Okay..? Yeah, sure. So, uh, can I go home now?”

Control adjusts his tie. “Well, there’s an issue with that course of action.”

Virgil’s heart sinks to his shoes, face paling. To make matters worse, realization dawns on Hopes face, mouth forming an ‘o,’ seemingly understanding what Control’s talking about. 

Virgil’s fists clench, eyes burning as tears start to form. He fights to keep his voice level as he speaks, “Wanna explain.”

“To begin, we aren’t sure how to get you home. That is the main concern. The second one, is that when Anxiety left the Dark Sides, his room moved over to our side of the mindscape. It hasn’t moved back.”

Virgil’s supposed to feel a crack. Feel his heart break, or sink through the floor, or _something._

Instead he just feels numb. Of course there isn’t a way back home. Of course he’s stuck here. _Of course_ his counterpart’s room is with the _Dark Sides._ His words are barely heard as he mutters, “Okay.. Can I sleep in Hope or Creativity’s room then?”

“Yeah!” Creativity cheers. “He can sleep in my room! It’ll be fun!”

A resounding ‘no’ is shouted by Pride, Hope, and Control.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, ki-Vigilance.” Rectitude adds.

Virgil’s jaw clenches at Rectitude’s slip up, but he can’t keep himself tense for long. For one, he’s just exhausted and done and just wants to _go home._ That paired with the fact that Rectitude _corrected_ himself. Rectitude _never_ does that.

Maybe these guys aren’t so bad?

“That does sound like a bad idea.” Thomas chimes in.

Virgil jumps, completely forgetting this his host has been in the room with him this whole time. A pang of guilt shoots through him before he moves on, clicking his tongue in understanding. “Okay, no sleeping with the resident crazy, then.”

Creativity bursts into giggles. “No, you’re sleeping with Ro-bro, my little emo.”

“Uh, I’m straight?” Virgil responds. He looks around, shocked faces staring back at him. Even Creativity has stopped giggling.

“There’s a straight version of me?” Thomas finally breaks the silence.

“ _You’re gay?_ ” Virgil turns to him, incredulous.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Hope challenges, eyes hard.

“No, I’m just surprised.” He huffs faintly. “Nobody’s gonna believe me.”

“Out of everything that has occurred, Thomas being gay is the most surprising?” Control asks, appearing genuinely confused.

Virgil shrugs. “I mean, Pride acting polite, Rectitude being actually kind, and you helping out when it’s not life and death; that’s shocking. But.. uh, my Thomas isn’t the _nicest_ person in the world. Him being the thing he hates isn’t something I expected.”

Pride stares at him long and hard. “And you’re okay with that.”

Virgil quickly raises his hands, looking to diffuse the tension rapidly building. “Of course not! We Lights do what we can, but Hope, Creativity, and Vigilance can only do so much. We aren’t all that powerful, and turning Thomas’s life around isn’t really something the other Lights know how to do. I’m a bit more familiar, but I can only do so much. 

“I try to protect Thomas from threats, that includes social ones. Being homophobic is a social threat, but it’s not like I can do much. I _try._ He just doesn’t listen to me all that much.”

Rectitude’s eyebrows pinch in concern. “Why? I mean, why is he homophobic..?”

“Gives him something to hold over people’s heads. It makes him feel better to know that there are people ‘lesser than’ him. He’s proud to be above them. It makes him feel powerful.

“And, well, he doesn’t really have the strongest conscience, so he just thinks he’s right and enjoys the power imbalance.

“We do what we can to try and reel him in, but.. well, Hope and Creativity inspire Thomas, but that doesn’t really help with making him a better person. And my wariness and self preservation can only go so far.

“So, I’ve had a _long_ day and really need a break. Can I sleep in _your_ room, Hope?”

“Me?” Hope looks baffled, a gloved hand pointing at his chest. 

Virgil gives him a ‘well duh’ look, nodding his head slightly.

“O-of course. This was.. entirely expected.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Uh, it looks like you couldn’t be more surprised.”

Hope deflates, fiddling with his gloves. “Our dearest Anxiety was never very.. _friendly._ You really are astoundingly his opposite. _”_

“Okay. So, you’re cool with me sleeping in your room then?”

“I believe so.”

“Great. So, I’m guessing I don’t have a place to sleep in it?”

Hope shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”

Pride, with a dramatic wave of his hand, buts into the conversation. “Allow me! I can conjure you the best bed, so much so that you’ll never want to wake!”

Virgil squeaks, both from the sudden noise and the implications of the comment. He’s pretty sure Pride--this Pride--doesn’t wanna kill him, but old habits die hard. 

He adjusts his lavender hoodie, trying to pretend he didn’t just jump a foot in the air. “Sorry, forgot you were there for a minute.”

“It’s fine.” Pride’s smile falters, quickly turning brittle. The rest of his posture follows suit, shifting from relaxed to tense in milliseconds.

Virgil is too tired to process any of this. “Thanks.” He mutters, entirely unaware of Pride’s sudden shift in body language.

With a deep breath, Hope looks to Virgil. “Alright, into the unknown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Denial:_ Logan denies he has feelings  
>  _Theft:_ Virgil, Hope, and Creativity used to steal Control's things  
>  _Remus Being Remus:_ He's a bit lewd, along with enthusiastically talking about his own death  
>  _Mentions of Homophpbia:_ Vigilance's Thomas is homophobic


	7. Sleepover!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has an interesting talk with Hope, that makes things even more complicated than they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** None

A heavy silence hangs over Virgil and Hope as they make their way down the long hallway. The soft tap of Virgil’s sneakers and the harsh clack of Hope’s oxfords eerily echo around them. Virgil gnaws at his lower lip, trying, and failing, to ignore the uncomfortable tension that sits between them.

The ceiling and walls are deep black. They’re entirely colourless, a void sucking all the light away. He isn’t even entirely sure that the walls and ceiling exist. It just looks like  _ nothing. _ Like space without stars. It’s simply empty. 

And it’s completely, and utterly terrifying.

Thankfully, the floor isn’t the same. It’s a stark white panel, nearly hurting his eyes with how bright it is compared to the emptiness around him. It stretches out as far as he can see, a single platform floating in a dark abyss. Tendrils of black smoke curl around where the platform meets the walls, slithering and shifting across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t go anywhere near Hope and Virgil, but his anxiety doesn’t ease. 

He pulls his lavender hoodie closer to him.

“I’m sorry I don’t have another bed for you.” Hope speaks, ripping Virgil from his thoughts. His smooth voice echoes around the hall, his tone so similar and yet so different compared to Hope from his world.

He represses a squeak at the sudden speech, letting out a shaky breath once he realizes there’s no danger. “’S not the first time I’ve slept on the floor.” Virgil shrugs. “It’s not like you were expecting me either.”

He tries not to sound too upset at the prospect of sleeping on the floor. Pride had offered to conjure him a bead, but both he and Hope had declined the offer. He wants _nothing_ to do with Pride. Sure, maybe he seems a little less malicious now, but even still. It makes absolutely _no_ sense to him that his counterpart is _dating_ the guy. But, because they declined, Virgil isn’t sleeping in a bed for the night. _Just trading in one discomfort for another I guess._ _How wonderful._

The conversation disintegrates, fading into the darkness surrounding them. Again, the two sides are left in silence, nothing but their echoing footsteps to accompany them on their journey. Virgil chances a glance towards Hope, noticing his stiff shoulders and furrowed brow. He elects to remain silent about it.

Again, Hope tries to strike up conversation. “You really remember us differently, don’t you?” His tone is hesitant, words slipping uncertainly from his lips.

“I still haven’t entirely ruled out this as being a giant prank or something.” He responds bitterly, scuffing his sneakers on the bright white floor as they walk.

Hope huffs. “If only.”

“Yeah.”

Once more, the two settle into a tense silence. Too many unspoken words drift between them, weighing on their tongues and settling into the air. The atmosphere is so thick with almost speech it makes Virgil’s skin itch. He rubs his hoodie sleeves, hoping to subside the gooseflesh caused by the anticipation of untouched topics.

Virgil can’t help but think that it’s odd to see Hope so reserved, so hesitant, so  _ uncomfortable. _ Virgil’s so used to the bubbly, chatterbox that his Hope is, it’s really unsettling to see the exact opposite. His mind can’t help but drift to before, when Hope and Creativity were normal. Sure, it wasn’t easy, or all that happy, but it was familiar, and he certainly missed his friends.

Once again, Hope drags him from his thoughts with another attempt at conversation. “Would you like to know more about Anxiety?”

Virgil’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He puts on a mask of apathy, shrugging indifferently. “Why not. I don’t know much about him.”

There is another silence. As Hope collects his thoughts, the pair passes by a muted green door that looks like it’s floating in the abyss. Dozens of wet eyes decorate it, blinking(winking?) in asynchrony. The irises are a variety of colours, some a bright red and others a nauseating yellow-green. They track Virgil and Hope as the two walk down the hallway. Virgil shrinks into himself, the feeling of the eyes on him causing the hair on his back to stand up and his breath to quicken. Hope doesn’t seem to notice. He appears entirely unfazed, simply strolling by the nightmare of a door, the contemplative expression fading as he finally finds his words.

“Well, to begin, he didn’t just spring into existence like the other sides did. He just observed everything at first; floated around. Much like the mist that lines our hallway.” He casts a hand out, gesturing to the black tendrils that creep along the edges of the white plane. “He was incorporeal for a long time. When his body finally formed, he didn’t form on the Light Side  _ or _ the Dark Side. He formed in the grey area in between, something we call Neutraily. Once he’d formed, he made the decision himself to come over here.”

“Why?” Virgil asks, voice faintly breathless. He can still feel the door’s eyes on him.

“What?” 

“Why did he come  _ here _ ? If he could’ve gone with the others, why’d he come over here? I mean, the scenery isn’t really…  _ inviting. _ ”

Hope shakes his head. “I assume he was scared. Scared to be rejected by the Light Sides. Scared of what Creativity would do to a side that looked like us.”

“Like a Disney villain, you mean.” Virgil jokes, hoping to bring up the mood of the conversation.

Hope doesn’t laugh.

“No.” He responds simply. “He wasn’t as extravagant as Remus or myself. He was just dressed in a grey and black checkered hoodie, black jeans, and black sneakers.”

“That whole description was in past tense. Is he not dressed like that anymore?”

“No. His outfit has shifted now that he’d accepted.” Hope’s voice is small, almost wistful.

Virgil, not knowing what to say, mumbles an apology, turning his gaze to the too bright floor.

“What?” Hope turns to him.

“I’m sorry he left. It must’ve hurt.” Virgil says again.

Hope’s expression is bewildered. It quickly shifts into a mask of indifference, hand coming up to wave Virgil’s words away. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like he wanted to be around us, even when he  _ was _ here.”

_ Why’d Anxiety even go to the Dark Side if he hated the people there? _ Virgil can’t help but think.

The two approach a grey door, a pattern of pale yellow scales creeping up from the bottom right hand corner. The handle is an ornate and golden lever, a yellow gemstone set into the end of it. Hope’s yellow gloves press it down, opening the door up to reveal his room.

In the back there’s a sunlamp casting a golden light across a smooth, black rock. In the far left corner, there’s a bed, the comforter the same design as the door. To the right there’s a desk, a quill and ink jar resting on the mahogany top. Right beside the door is a stand, where Hope places his hat and capelet. Slipping his shoes off he slides them into a small cubby just to the right of the stand. Virgil follows suit, toeing off his shoes, but keeping his hoodie wrapped protectively around him.

“Yeah, that  _ sucks, _ but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” He replies.

Hope sighs, taking a seat on his bed. “I suppose. He’s probably better off now. He was always uncomfortable around us. I can’t blame him for it, either. After all, Deception and Intrusive thoughts go  _ wonderfully _ with Anxiety.”

Virgil huffs, taking a seat next to Hope. 

Looking to avoid the sorrow and regret that has tainted the air, Virgil shifts the conversation. “Okay, I have a question.”

“Oh?”

“Who’s Pride’s brother?”

“Remus?”

Virgil tenses. “Yes.”

Hope seems to notice his reaction. “You said earlier that names are important to you. Does that mean you feel responsible for Hope and Creativity?”

He nods. “They’re in constant danger thanks to the Dark Sides and I’m Vigilance. When else did you expect?”

“I just never thought of Vigilance as all that powerful.”

_ You’re not the only one. _ He thinks resentfully. “Well, now you know.” Virgil says instead.

“Has something ever happened to you?” Hope asks after a beat of silence. “As in, something so bad the others had to use your name?”

He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t know them when they saved me.”

Hope nods. “Alright. Well, as I’ve said before, I’m not Hope. I never have been and never will be. You may call me Deceit. And Remus, Forbidden Creativity, you may call the Duke.” Virgil nods. “Control is Logic,” Deceit continues, “Rectitude is Morality-”

He snorts. “What?”

“Yes. He’s Morality. And he acts like Anxiety’s dad more often than not.”

Virgil laughs a bit before his expression turns somber. His voice is barely a whisper as he asks, “This world is really different, huh?”

“Not that different, not that similar.” Deceit responds. He places a gentle, gloved hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Despite everything, he leans into the touch.

“I guess I’ll have to apologize if I’m still here in the morning.” He mutters, eyes on his shoes. “You guys must miss Anxiety..”

“You seem calmer.” Deceit deflects. Virgil doesn’t comment on it.

“You heard what they did to me.” He deadpans. “Or, at least, what  _ my _ version of the Light Sides did to me. You expect me to be all calm and collected around them?” He hesitates, then says, “I’m trying to warm up to them. Since they’re different now. But.. it isn’t all that easy.”

“Understandable. 

“Continuing on from where we left off, Roman, the Duke’s brother, is both Creativity and the Ego.”

“So I  _ am _ dating Pride?!” Virgil looks at Deceit in horror.

“Sort of.” He tilts his head, shifting his palm side to side to emphasize his point.

“Is he still terrible in this universe..?”

Deceit snorts. “Yes and no. As far as I’m aware, you two just shot insults at each other until you fell in love.”

Virgil makes a face. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Well, I suppose I can’t exactly judge.” He sighs.

“Why not?” A pause, then Virgil’s face lights up. “Who’s the guy?”

Deceit shoots him a look. “You really aren’t bothered by our sexuality?”

“Living with jerks doesn’t make me a jerk.” He says petulantly.

Deceit chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“So?” He presses. “Who?”

Deceit groans, his lips twitching upwards. Virgil leans a little closer, mouth splitting into an eager grin. Deceit flushes, turning away. 

“Come  _ on. _ ” Virgil complains. “I don’t even know you guys. You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

Deceit gives in, the human side of his face a bright red as he says, “It’s, uh, Re- the Duke.”

“Okay.” Virgil nods, taking the information and pursing his lips to hide his satisfied smirk. “I’d be the most comfortable with that. He does seem a bit… disturbing, though.”

“He is.” Deceit agrees.

“What?”

“He is disturbing and disgusting. But we’ve been together for forever.. He.. He didn’t abandon me. Not like Anxiety did. And he cares. He really does. He respects my limits, and he usually isn’t as abrasive as he was today. He listens to me.

“But.. as much as I care about him.. I’m not comfortable with us being together.”

“Talk to him.”

“What?” Deceit looks at Virgil like he grew another head.

“I said  _ talk _ to him. Tell him how you feel. Sort it out together.”

Deceit fixes his eyes on the bed sheets. “I’ll try. On a similar note, I’m pretty sure Logic and Morality like each other.”

“How does that work?” Virgil asks, nose wrinkling.

He barks a laugh. “It doesn’t. Morality is a pushover and Logic just shoves his feelings down and claims they don’t exist.”

“Sounds annoying.”

“ _ It is. _ But it’s not like we can do much about it.”

“Guess not. Maybe they can work things out, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Another silence blankets the two sides, this one comfortable and warm. Virgil scoots closer to Deceit, carefully resting his head on the other side’s shoulder. Deceit’s arm wraps around Virgil’s waist. Virgil smiles. He lets his eyes rove mindlessly around the room, the slight buzzing of the lamp a comforting white noise that fills the companionable silence.

Deceit takes a breath. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Virgil sits up, looking at Deceit properly.

“Well… that story you were telling earlier…”

“Which one?”

“The one about Rectitude… kidnapping you…”

Virgil can’t help but inch away, eyeing Deceit warily. “Yeah…?”

Deceit’s eyes drop to the floor, his shoulders hunching. He fiddles with his gloves, looking small and utterly ashamed. “I… did something similar with Anxiety…”

A sharp static fills Virgil’s vision. His head feels too light. 

The last thing he registers is his knees buckling beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will not be a post on the 12th. I'll be back after next week, this isn't a permanent hiatus, I promise. Updates will resume March 19th. Take care, all. Stay safe, drink water, and have a wonderful week.


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